


To Be Alone

by compo67



Series: Punzel Verse [11]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Arguing, Bottom Jared, Domestic, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Grinding, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Post Mpreg, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Squirting, Top Jensen Ackles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3040217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most of the time, Jared has his hair swept up in a messy ponytail. When it’s down, it gets wavy at the ends. Today is a ponytail day because today was also chore day. On top of how tired Jensen is, all he can think about is the tender slope of Jared’s neck, pieces of silky brown hair falling against it... </p><p>In between their jobs, their family, and personal alone time, Jensen needs some time with Jared. Desperately. But will it happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Alone

**Author's Note:**

> "To Be Alone" by Hozier towards the end of this piece.

It’s well-known throughout the Padalecki-Collins household that Jared watches The Real Housewives.

He’ll watch whichever city is on when he’s got three baskets of laundry at his feet in the living room. One basket is the kids’ clothes, which sometimes requires Jared to pull out his sewing kit. Three four year olds are capable of ripping, staining, and messing up clothes just as fast as they are able to tear apart their room during playtime. Of course, Jensen’s portion of the laundry is just as bad; his shirts and jeans will one day be nothing but grass stains. That’s the second basket—his and Jared’s clothes. Jared’s shirts and pants are usually stained in some way despite his best efforts. Juice, animal cracker crumbs, markers, crayons… everything the kids touch somehow gravitates towards Jared’s shirt front. Combined with coffee, whipped cream, and frosting stains from working at Matilda’s Café, Jared’s laundry is the tastiest.

The third basket—which Jared has been told isn’t necessary for him to do—is Misha and Jeff’s stuff.

Jensen walks over from the kitchen, drying his hands from the mountain of dishes leftover from dinner. Bailey wanted to help make spa-petti, which meant using a hundred pots and pans with Misha and Jeff. Seeing their brother selected to help Mimi and Papa, the girls demanded that they too be given a chore to do. Jensen can only hope that the eagerness to do chores follows them into adolescence.

“Why do you watch this shit?” Jensen murmurs, taking a seat next to Jared.

“Well… I was watching Chopped, but I get so hungry.” Jared picks up one of Kaylee’s dresses, a yellow polka dot one Misha is especially fond of. Quick hands fold and put it back into the basket. One of Hailey’s overalls is picked up, followed by an elbow to Jensen’s ribs. “And don’t judge me, Jensen. You watch Monday night football, that’s already a point against you.”

Jensen settles into the couch by leaning back, stretching out, and placing his left hand on the small of Jared’s back. Their house is still reeling from Christmas, which was last week. Gearing up for New Year’s is a different story: the kids will be spending two blessed nights with their grandmothers, who have been strictly told there are to be no more presents. Christmas morning was beautiful, just the way Jensen pictured it being for three four year olds, complete with cheesy mistletoe that got passed around to everyone. The presents Santa brought for the kids were a mix of clothes and toys—most of those toys being educational or fun stuff that doesn’t involve noise or batteries. Santa learned the no-noise, no-batteries rule very early on.

But the grandparents… Jensen is tired just thinking about it.

Misha’s mother went overboard. Jeff’s parents seemed to have forgotten that four year olds do not need miniature Mercedes to drive around the backyard or designer clothes to spill fruit punch all over. But Grandma Hannah and Grandma Linda were perhaps the worst offenders.

“Your hand is gettin’ a little friendly, sir,” Jared informs Jensen, his nose scrunching.

“Stop folding clothes.” The offending hand backs off, but only slightly.

“Mmnope. Just because your chores are done don’t mean mine are.”

“Can we at least watch something else?” His hand acts on its own accord when Jared bends forward to rearrange one of the baskets. A peek of pink skin shows when Jared’s t-shirt rides up and Jensen’s hand has to pinch it.

“Jensen!”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles and takes his hand completely off of Jared.

After four years, Jared has found a body weight and shape he’s happy with. He’s kept about fifty pounds of the baby weight he gained with the trio, but it looks so good on him; good enough to make Jensen forget his manners. Jared’s hips have filled out and he has a slight softness to his middle that… shit. He’s supposed to behave.

Housewives with hair like skyscrapers are screaming on screen. Jared pauses, his mouth hanging open, completely glued to the parade of dramatics unfolding. Someone overturns a table. Jensen wonders how much hair spray these women go through in a week.

“Dang,” Jared breathes, “I can’t believe Teresa did that. I have to text Rhonda.”

With a snort, Jensen grouses, “You have time to text Rhon, but no time for me?”

Jared texts and replies to Jensen at the same time, all without looking way from the television. “Jen, do you have a stick up your butt tonight? You were crabby during dinner too.”

“I was not.”

“Mmhmm.” Jared’s phone pings back with a text from Rhonda almost instantly.

“Why doesn’t she just come over if you two are gonna text during the whole show anyway?”

“Because.”

“Because _why_?”

Jared picks up the remote, puts the television on mute, and turns to look at Jensen. He moves so fast, his ponytail swishes. “Jensen! You’re like the kids when they skip a nap. Rhonda has to dye her hair for this week and you know how impossible that is here. Is that okay with you?”

“I don’t remember it being _that_ impossible.”

“Seriously,” Jared sighs, losing his patience, “why are you in such a bad mood? If it’s because you got stuck with the dishes, that’s your fault. You spun it on the chore wheel this morning.”

Most of the time, Jared has his hair swept up in a messy ponytail. When it’s down, it gets wavy at the ends. The girls’ hair does the same thing, though Bailey’s is a little straighter. Today is a ponytail day because today was also chore day. Since everyone was home, everyone pitched in. Jeff did the bathrooms, Misha tackled the kitchen, Jensen mowed the lawns and cleaned out the garage, and the kids were assigned one individual chore each plus picking up their room. On top of how tired Jensen is, all he can think about is the tender slope of Jared’s neck, pieces of silky brown hair falling against it.

Laughter echoes from upstairs. Misha and Jeff are in charge of room inspection and story time before bed tonight. Jensen’s consolation is that Jeff has to take out the garbage later. They’re reading from _Where the Sidewalk Ends_ and Jensen is missing out. Stupid dishes.

Stupid Jared’s threadbare t-shirt that outlines the slight swell to his chest that never left after breastfeeding. Stupid dip of Jared’s collarbone. Stupid pair of jeans that Jared is wearing that fit him like a second skin, hugging the muscles of his thighs and accentuating the pert curve of his ass.

He’s going to give himself a nosebleed.

“Are you feelin’ okay, Punzel?” Jared’s voice is more concerned now. “You look flushed.”

Of course, Jared speaking doesn’t help. Jensen’s eyes are directed to Jared’s mouth, which has just received a fresh coat of Chapstick after dinner. There is a faint yet alluring shine to those lips.

Hazel eyes search Jensen’s for information.

“Oh. _Oh_.” Jared shakes his head. “And here I was worried.”

“You’re not worried at all?”

“You can wait.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Uh, yes you can. I wanna finish my show.”

“I gotta be up early tomorrow.”

“So?”

“So…”

“Jensen, this is the one night a week I get to watch television without three kids hanging off of me or dinner to cook or something to wash. And I still have to fold stuff—your clothes for work included.”

“You get other nights,” Jensen presses.

One eyebrow rises in warning. “Don’t do this, Jen.”

“Do what?”

“For real? You don’t get it?”

“…”

“Punzel,” Jared mutters and stacks two of the three baskets on top of each other. “Whatever it is that’s bothering you on top of wanting sex—figure it out before we go to bed. I’m going to go watch the rest of my show by myself in Misha’s office, since watching it in the living room uninterrupted is too much to ask. Fold your own clothes, please.”

Jensen should be incredibly upset. It frustrates him that he doesn’t do anything but watch Jared walk away.

And he could kick himself for thinking that the view is just so damn good.

 

Anything on the Food Network is better than watching Housewives.

Alton Brown taunts competitors with another auction during Cutthroat Kitchen. The first challenge is to make taquitos in half an hour, with three sabotages throughout. Halfway through, Jensen gets up from the couch and wanders into the kitchen.

He isn’t sure how to reconcile what he wants and what he can do. Want—to fuck Jared into the mattress as hard and rough as possible. Can do—prep breakfast for tomorrow.

Not only is Jared not in the mood, which Jensen feels awful about pushing the more he thinks about it, but the kids are home. It’s not that they can’t have sex when they kids are around, but the older they’ve gotten the more likely they have been to wander in and out of Jensen and Jared’s room unannounced. It’s like they have a sixth sense about when to interrupt activities that don’t involve them. The fine art of knocking was valiantly attempted to be taught, but it just hasn’t stuck. A four year old doesn’t think of knocking when they wake up from a nightmare and need mommy or daddy. Since the guys’ room is downstairs, they are seldom woken up first.

No one has the heart to lock the door, either. Jared doesn’t want the kids to feel like they’re inaccessible. However, this has resulted in mixed results. Two months ago, Hailey walked in on Jared blowing Jensen and it was… unpleasant for everyone. The kids went through the penis and vagina talk when they were two, but everyone received a sudden and very awkward refresher. Sex positive parenting is not as easy as it seemed in the books Jensen and Misha read through two years ago. Mommies and daddies can do these things to feel good, but it’s tough to explain why, and why only mommies and daddies and not kids. Jensen does not miss the days of genital exploration, which he knows is normal and he tried his best not to shame anyone for asking questions or pointing things out, but it’s nice to go a few weeks without saying, “Please don’t touch your brother’s penis at the dinner table, Kay.”

In addition to the door issue, there have been multiple nights when Jared was in the mood and Jensen wasn’t and vice versa. Things just haven’t been able to match up for everyone involved lately.

Regardless of whatever is happening or isn’t happening, Jensen knows he can’t pressure Jared for sex.

He knows what it feels like to be pleaded and pried at to put out. And he knows what it feels like to give in. The feeling that follows giving in is worse.

Jensen rests his elbows on the counter and leans over, closing his eyes and sighing.

Footsteps are heard that don’t belong to small feet. Jeff leans against the main doorway to the kitchen, wearing his pajamas and robe. It’s eight thirty and this is their life.

“Looks like you need a shoulder to cry on,” Jeff rumbles. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“You sure? I’m gonna make some cocoa.”

It’s true that Jeff happens to make some of the best hot chocolate on the West Coast. Matilda has asked him for the recipe. Jensen reconsiders; he gives a shrug. “Fine.”

“All right then, move it, sister.”

Sulking, Jensen moves himself to the island, plopping down on a bar stool. As ingredients are gathered, Jeff asks what happened. In Misha’s office, a similar conversation is more than likely taking place. Jensen tries to recreate the conversation, but it’s tough to concentrate when all he can think about is what a jerk he’s been.

“You know,” Jeff says with a small laugh, “it’s a little reassuring seeing you fuck up.” Milk and chocolate are whisked together in a saucepan over the stovetop. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I enjoy seeing the two of you fight. But it is somewhat comforting, in a way. Do you know why arguments can be a good thing from time to time?”

“To prove what an asshole I am?”

“Mm, maybe. I’ll admit—I think you were more of an asshole before Jared showed up in your life. But you had your reasons. Now you’re just a tiny asshole.”

“Thanks,” Jensen snorts.

Jeff adds in a blend of top secret mix-ins. “You’re welcome,” he chirps. “Better to be a tiny asshole than a tiny dick. Oh c’mon. Laugh a little. That was hilarious.”

“You got dad jokes, Jeff.”

“Yeah,” the older man replies with a dreamy smile. “I do, don’t I?” There was something a little rougher about all of them before Jared came along. “Anyway, arguments are good because it proves that no one is compromising. Do you know how awful a relationship is if someone keeps giving in all the time?”

Flashbacks were exactly what Jensen was trying to avoid by speaking about these issues. His consciousness has other plans.

What’s different, however, is that he finds himself talking about the storm in his head.

“Liam used to find ways to get me to do something.” His own voice sounds strange—off key. “I mean, they were creative, I guess you have to give him that.”

“Being manipulative is different from being creative,” Jeff points out.

“Guess so.”

“I’m just saying, honey, let’s call it for what it is.”

“It’s… still weird calling him that. Or thinking about him that way. Like, I know he did that and yeah, I agree with you. It’s just weird to think that for myself—that he was an abusive jerk.”

The heat is reduced and Jeff leaves the concoction alone for a few minutes. In the meantime, he grates chocolate shavings onto a small plate. “Well, time will help that.”

“It’s been six years.”

“A _lot_ of time will help that. Sometimes it takes longer. If you and Jared broke up now, how long do you think it’d take you to move on completely?”

Something in the pit of Jensen’s stomach does an agonizing flip. He hopes it settles before hot cocoa is served. Rich scents of chocolate and cinnamon fill the kitchen, teasing him and his sudden bout of nausea. “Fuck, I don’t… I couldn’t. Even if I was with someone else, I’d still be tied to him in some way.”

Jeff smiles and shakes his head. “You’ve come a long way since that Mexican restaurant.”

“You’ve come a long way from threatening me at that restaurant.”

“Yes, well, I’ve taken a shine to you I suppose. I tolerate you at best.”

“Liar.”

“Back to the subject,” Jeff snips and begins whisking again. “I think you know what you did and why some of it is less appropriate or appreciated. But do you know why you did it?”

Looking at the tile floor of the kitchen, Jensen sighs. “I’m frustrated.”

“With?” The saucepan is brought off the stovetop and four mugs are extracted from the nearest cupboard. Jeff assembles the way Jared does laundry—like it’s as natural as breathing.

“It sounds really stupid.”

“Try me.”

“I’d rather not.”

The first mug that is ready is handed over to Jensen. His mug of hot chocolate is piled high with marshmallows, whipped cream, chocolate shavings, and a vanilla wafer. Warming up his hands, he holds onto the mug for a minute before taking a sip. They had a round of these on Christmas Eve, while the kids were in bed and Santa and his elves were wrapping gifts and swearing up storms in the living room. That hot cocoa was celebratory; this hot cocoa is comforting.

As an actor and drag queen, Jeff has expressive hands. His free hand moves as he talks, fluttering with the rise and fall of his voice. “Jensen, I’ve been in the drag business for twenty years now, I’ve seen stupid is as stupid does a million times over. Whatever you say will not rock my world.”

Jensen recalls a story told to him not long ago about a drag queen who was too impatient to ask anyone about adhesive for fake eyelashes, so she grabbed whatever was handy on the set. Of course, it turned out to be superglue, and it was her first time putting on fake eyelashes so they were crooked and thin to boot.

“Sometimes,” Jensen starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “I feel like all of Jared’s attention is on the kids. See? I told you. Stupid.”

Jeff nods, takes a sip out of his mug, and hands another to Jensen. “Take this, take yours, and go tell him exactly that, in those words right now.”

“Uh, no one said anything about communication.”

“Fine then, give back those mugs and wallow like you were doing before.”

“…can I take a sip from Jared’s before I give it to him?”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks, Jeff.”

“It’s what I’m here for—talking about boys and making cocoa. That’s why I’m a keeper.”

Jeff is told not to push his luck.

 

Life with three four year olds is virtually nonstop. Jared and Misha stay home with them the most, often during the day, while Jensen and Jeff’s schedules are more open at night. There are times when everyone has to reconfigure their schedules, like during the Great Flu Attack this September. Jared was completely out of commission and their household fell apart within seconds. Who knew that the kids starting preschool would also mean bringing home new and wonderful germs?

The kids are well on their way to learning how to read soon. Jared practices with them every day, determined to raise readers. Kaylee enjoys _Fancy Nancy_ , Hailey is a fan of _The Magic School Bus_ , and Bailey prefers _Stellaluna_. The trio is still a little too young to fully understand the content in storybooks but it doesn’t stop Jared. He gradually eases the trio into them with the patience of a saint.

Four year olds also have the habit of repeating a lot of what the adults around them say. This necessitates spelling out choice words or risking an entire afternoon of a four year old screaming “shit” throughout the house.

Jensen was talking about a donor a few months ago, someone who backed out at the last minute without explanation, and he happened to call them a giant dick. Kaylee took it upon herself to make that the word of the day—sticking her tongue out whenever Jensen tried to explain to her why it’s not a nice word. Of course, she asked him sharply, “If it’s not nice, why you said it, daddy?” Jared took her side.

Thankfully, as Jensen passes the trio’s room, story time and chore day has tired everyone out. He checks on them, quietly peeking in.

Some nights, it’s impossible to get all three kids to sleep at the same time. Those are nights when all four adults seriously consider hypnotizing the kids or offering to pay them in toys if they just go to sleep. This happened more frequently when the trio was first transitioning from cribs to beds. Jared and Misha were Team Sleep Together and Jensen and Jeff were Team Let’s Try Separate Beds First. Separate Beds First resulted in each child waking up in the middle of the night, climbing out of their bed, waking up their siblings, and playing around in their room until they all fell asleep on the floor in a pile of small hands and feet. Now, as they sleep on a queen bed that’s lower to the ground, all three kids are smushed together in the center. Tonight, Kaylee is in the middle, one of her hands pressed over Bailey’s face and Hailey’s hair all over hers.

Sighing, Jensen closes their door.

There are other nights when he wants to wake one of them up for kisses and hugs and more play time. But that’s a dangerous route for everyone involved. The kids require routine and structure. When they stay with the Grandmas the same exact nightly routine has to be followed faithfully.

Balancing two mugs of cocoa is a piece of cake.

Interrupting Misha and Jared is not as easy. Jensen knocks on the open door with his foot. Looking up, Misha smiles and Jared nods in acknowledgement. A pat to Jared’s back is given and Misha stands up from his desk chair. There’s an office downstairs, near Misha and Jeff’s bedroom, but Misha uses this one the most often so he can more easily keep an eye on the kids when he’s working from home. The days when Jared works at Matilda’s while the kids are at preschool are days Misha stays home to clean, work, and prep dinners for the coming week. Misha steps over a few rogue toys that have made their way in, and he gives a squeeze to Jensen’s shoulder.

“Did you talk to Jeff?”

“Yep.”

“Does he have cocoa for me?”

“Maybe.”

“He better,” Misha mutters. “We’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

Thank yous are given from Jared and Jensen. Misha’s quiet footsteps disappear down the hall and Jensen sets the mug of cocoa down on the desk as an olive branch. Jared runs a hair through his hair, taking his pony tail out. The swish of his hair falling in waves is distracting. It’s long enough now that it reaches Jared’s shoulders. The shortest he’s ever had it was clipped above his ears, which Jared personally didn’t care for at all, but nursing to eighteen months meant his hair was constantly grabbed and pulled at if it was long. The kids have an understanding of pulling on hair now, though when they do get into fights, Kaylee still grabs hair first.

“So…” Jensen starts, nervously tapping his fingers on his mug. “I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

Dimples flash, but they frame a frown instead of a smile. “It’s not… I mean, I appreciate the apology, Jen. But it’s not entirely your fault.” Sitting down, Jared takes a sip of his cocoa, whipped cream sticking to his lips until he licks it off a second later. He closes his eyes and sighs into his mug for another sip.

Jensen looks at his own mug. “Do you want my cookie?”

“You don’t want it?”

“I know you like these.”

“I do. Thanks.”

One slightly soggy vanilla wafer is passed over to Jared, who eats both of them and finishes half of his cocoa. He sets his mug on Misha’s desk, next to Jensen’s. “I just wanna say, Jen, that I really do appreciate it when y’all give me nights off or any break from being mommy. But Sunday nights are my thing and I thought you knew that.”

“I know, I know. I’m just… frustrated.”

“You could have told me. I would’ve listened and tried to do something for you after my show and the laundry.”

“Dude,” Jensen sighs, “I hate begging you for sex. I hate feeling like I’m nagging you for it.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “So asking is begging? If you have a problem asking, do you want me to just throw myself at you?”

“No,” is quipped right after. “That’s not what I said.”

“So what do you want from me, Jen? Because I’m not sure.”

“We used to have sex every Christmas Eve after we finished wrapping stuff and the past two years… nothing happened and I’m not sure how to bring it up but okay, there you go. And we haven’t had sex at all since Thanksgiving and I’ve been home on break for a week now.” The more he talks, the more desperate he sounds, so he shuts up there, leaning against the desk.

“Jen, certain days of the year don’t entitle you to fuck me.”

“I know that, Jared, don’t say it like I’m…”

“Sorry,” Jared murmurs, shaking his head, “that wasn’t fair.”

After a deep breath, Jensen continues. “Look, it just… sex on Christmas Eve used to be this romantic thing we did before the big day that I sorta looked forward to a lot. Logically, yes, okay, I get it. This is a hectic time of year for all of us, especially you, and I hate to ask you to give more than you’re already giving, but I…” Jeff’s advice kicks him in the mental shins. “…I feel like all of your attention is on the kids lately and I’m… I’m just here.”

The hurt look on Jared’s face makes Jensen wish he hadn’t brought this up at all.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Jensen.” Jared stands up. “I really don’t. I have to have some time by myself—without you or the kids or the guys—because if I don’t, I lose myself. We’ve talked about that a hundred times since the kids were born.” Jared’s voice becomes rigid and cold. “…And I’m not about to give up that time because you want me to bend over.”

It’s a low blow, but Jensen feels like it’s accurate enough. Where was he going with this anyway?

“Oh my god,” Jared breathes out, one hand over his mouth, “I went from upset to complete asshole in zero to sixty.”

Sometimes, they both forget where they come from and the relationships they had before they met.

Jensen doesn’t say anything. He’s done talking. He pushes off of the desk and takes two steps towards the door. They can sleep this off and pick up the subject tomorrow. This’ll give him time to wallow in self pity for a few hours about what a horrible parent, partner, and friend he’s being. He wouldn’t detract a minute of Jared’s attention from the kids, because he would never deprive the kids of anything. So it seems best for him to shut the hell up and stop whining.

“Don’t,” Jared blurts out and reaches for Jensen. “Don’t walk away, Jen, please.” His tone has softened. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, I’m not listening. But please, don’t go.”

A noise comes from the hallway, but it doesn’t sound like a kid has woken up to need something, so Jensen lets it go. He turns back to Jared, but he is still done talking. Opening his mouth hasn’t done him any favors yet.

And for now, that seems to be fine with Jared, who starts talking a mile a minute, his hands on Jensen’s arms. “I miss you, Punzel. I miss you a lot and we live together. We go to sleep together and wake up together and I still miss you. I check the clock ten times a day when I’m at work or here with the kids, waiting until I know you’re on your way home. But I don’t tell you this because I know you’re working hard to provide for us and… you know, what am I gonna ask you to do? Work less?”

Jared shakes his head and squeezes Jensen’s arms. “…I miss you too, is what I’m trying to say. I didn’t… realize that’s probably what you were tryin’ to say this entire time.”

Their mornings are chaos. The kids go to preschool three days a week. They have to be out the door by seven thirty for Jeff or Jensen to take them and drop them off. Most days start at six for their entire household, even though Jensen doesn’t start work until nine. He gets up with Jared and joins the guys with the kids to get them ready. Everything is done to make the morning routine as smooth as possible, but it doesn’t always work with three kids. Someone is sniffly, someone is cranky, someone doesn’t want to wear what they picked out the night before. By seven, the kids have to be at the kitchen table to eat breakfast, and the adults that aren’t feeding them are running around getting ready for their day to start.

Evenings are less chaotic for Jensen because he works until six, sometimes later. But he knows Jared goes to work the days the kids have preschool, not so much for the money but for a chance to get out of the house and do something where he isn’t mommy. The extra money is nice, and Jensen makes Jared keep his paychecks for himself. Last month, Jared and Rhonda took a two day spa retreat with his tips from the café. Jensen was happy to make room in his schedule to do that because Jared deserved it.

But it’s difficult admitting that for those two days, even though he spent it with his family, he was lonely.

Life is moving so fast.

They brush their teeth together in the morning and at night, but that’s not enough.

Jared’s hands—warm and soft—move to frame Jensen’s jaw line, his thumbs smoothing over Jensen’s stubble. “I love it when you don’t shave for a few days,” Jared murmurs, leaning in closer.

Jensen closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath.

“I can’t offer much that’ll be an amazing answer to this.” Jared continues to speak, but his voice is quiet and intimate. “I still want my Sunday nights and I know you still need to work. But I guess… the good thing about this, Jen, is that I never feel like you aren’t supportive of me or the kids and what they need. I never feel like I’m alone in this, even if I do miss you.” Their noses are bumped together. “When the kids come home from preschool, I put them down for a nap at twelve thirty. Maybe... you could swing by the house on your lunch breaks?”

Comfort seeps into Jensen as Jared moves his hands to card through Jensen’s hair. He opens his eyes and hazel ones are looking back at him, this time determined and hopeful.

“Yeah,” Jensen breathes out, somewhat shakily. That was close. “I can do that, tall man.”

This time, dimples frame a genuine smile. Jared’s hands slip into Jensen’s with a firm squeeze.

“I knew it,” a voice snips from the hallway. “I told you they’d figure it out.”

“Shut up, Jeff,” a second voice snaps out. “I knew they would too.”

“Yeah, but you bet on tomorrow.”

“Sometimes it’s best to sleep on it.”

“I got something you can sleep on.”

“Gross. Get off me.”

“We can hear you,” Jared calls out. “Thanks for spying, guys.”

“This isn’t spying,” Jeff declares from their spot in the hallway, offended at the suggestion. “This is ensuring that neither one of you fucks shit up.”

“Quiet!” Misha quips. “We’re right by their door.”

“Do we have kids or velociraptors?”

Misha’s sigh can probably be heard from the street. “Goodnight you two, glad everything’s okay. You. Let’s _go_.” Squabbling, the guys tiptoe down the hallway and the stairs, Misha most likely leading. .

Jared smiles and takes Jensen’s hand.

He leads him to their bed.

 

Twenty-three looks good on Jared.

He is blooming.

Jensen tangles both his hands in Jared’s hair.

Space between them disappears. Their hips meet. Their mouths seal together. The rhythm of their everyday life extinguishes, replaced by something bolder, rougher, and overwhelming. Even that gives way to the sound of a whisper from pink, slick lips.

“That feels good.”

Jensen twists his hands and pulls. He pushes Jared down onto their bed, shuddering as long legs wrap around his waist. They rock together. Jensen moans into Jared at the feel of fingertips digging into his shirt, dragging over his shoulder blades.

The lights are off.

The door is shut.

Not a trace of themselves from before exists in these moments. This is them in their bed. This is Jared underneath him, his hips rolling forward, their erections grinding until Jensen moves lower, pushing the mound of his cock over the swell of Jared’s ass. It feels good. This all feels good.

Jared just doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know what he does to Jensen. What the skill of his tongue does, what the closeness of their lips does, what the steady inhale and exhale of every whimper and moan does to Jensen.

Kissing Jared turns him all inside out.

It liquefies him.

Exhaling, with the sweet, light taste of Jared on his tongue, Jensen moves his mouth elsewhere. Firm, commanding hands hold Jared’s wrists down, above his head.

Their hips line up.

Jensen bears down as he pushes Jared’s shirt up, exposing tight, peaked, flushed nipples. He pumps his hips within the squeeze and hold of Jared’s legs. Not an inch of Jensen argues with them being this way; wrapped up and fused together. One flicker of his tongue over the left nipple yields a shudder and a gasp from Jared. Jensen licks his fingertips; he rolls the right nipple between his fingers, pulling, adding pressure there and in their hips.

Eyes closed, Jensen closes his mouth over the left nipple. He pushes Jared further into the mattress, moving his hips in circles as Jared squirms and thrashes under him from the sweep of Jensen’s tongue and the suction. The most satisfying noises escape the back of Jared’s throat.

Jensen has to have him.

The question is asked. Jensen lifts Jared up, hands cupped under his ass, moving him towards the center of their bed.

The answer is given.

Their mouths reconnect. Jared is hot and sweet. Jensen places both hands over the curvature of Jared’s chest and gropes as hard as he can, until his hands leave marks. Jared’s legs buck; his eyes water and he pulls Jensen down for a series of sloppy, messy, wet kisses.

Separation is cold and cruel, but necessary. Jensen shucks his clothes off. Jared races to strip, tossing his shirt onto the floor, toeing off his jeans, followed by his black boxer-briefs. Jensen wraps his hand around the flushed, thick length of Jared’s cock. His lips hover over Jared’s for a moment while his hand strokes, merciless and firm. Under the bloated crown, Jensen rubs his thumb, creating friction, making Jared’s mouth water.

He could never get enough of this.

“Condom,” Jared cries out, his eyes squeezed shut. “Jen… please…”

If there was less desperation, Jensen would take his time. He would hold Jared open and lick into him until he was red and glistening like a shell.

He rolls a condom on, pumps his cock with warming lube, and lines up.

The head pushes in with a punch of breath from Jared.

It would be easier to do it from behind. It would hurt less. But their mouths wouldn’t be able to meet. Jensen would not be able to swallow every hiccup, each whine.

Jared’s legs spread out, stretching, extending, and coming back to wrap around Jensen’s waist, pulling him in deeper. The tight ring of muscle around Jensen’s cock flutters. It twitches and gives until Jensen is able to move. It opens up to him with three rough thrusts. Jensen fills Jared up, buried to the base, his hands once again in Jared’s hair.

This feels good.

Jensen fucks Jared.

He twists and tilts his hips on their downward drive into nothing but plush, sweltering, trembling muscle. They rock forward, until Jared’s hips curl up towards Jensen’s, his legs in the air. Sweat mixes in with the trail of come Jared’s cock leaves on their stomachs. The squelch of lube is as loud as the bed creaking. Jared covers his mouth with one hand and keeps the other over the muscles in Jensen’s chest.

Jensen can feel the first orgasm approaching. He feels every inhale Jared takes. He feels it when the muscles clench and spasm against his cock. Jared shuts his eyes; his legs buck and his mouth opens in a silent scream. Jensen fucks him through it, all the way into a second orgasm right after, snatching and wringing the breath out of Jared.

Strung out, Jared shakes all over. He begs Jensen to turn him over.

It feels good.

Jared grabs onto the headboard and pushes his hips back desperate for Jensen’s cock. This is the most alluring shape to Jared—the way his hips curve. The ratio and the dip of his shoulders to his waist to his ass. It’s a good view. It’s even better as Jensen watches his cock drive into Jared.

“Oh god, oh god,” Jared groans into a pillow. He tosses his head back as Jensen pounds against a bundle of nerves.

That something dark and overwhelming has Jensen mount Jared at a higher angle, putting every muscle to work. He presses his forehead against the back of Jared’s neck and pistons his hips mercilessly. His balls against Jared’s ass make a satisfying series of sharp snaps. Legs spread, ass up, Jared cries into a pillow, pleading for Jensen to fuck him harder.

Frustration is worked out of both of them.

Jensen licks the sweat off of Jared’s left shoulder blade.

Sweet as heaven.

Hot as hell.

All rhythm lost, Jensen is as deep as he can be, aching and desperate.

Then he feels it. It starts as a trickle of liquid around his cock and turns into gush of warm, satisfying stickiness.

He’s made Jared come so hard, he’s squirting.

The third orgasm wrecks Jared, ripping through him, causing his hips to quiver. He screams into a pillow, clutching onto it, humping backwards.

Jensen bites down on the meat of Jared’s shoulder. The pounding of his hips matches the pounding of his heart. One, two, three rough corkscrews into Jared and he comes, pummeling the bundle of nerves on purpose. As he comes, Jared comes again, for the fourth and final time.

Thick inside Jared, Jensen doesn’t pull out right away.

But he does lick the tears off of Jared’s cheek.

When he does pull out, he pushes two fingers in, just to feel.

And afterwards, as Jared adjusts to the loss, Jensen splays his other hand over Jared’s soft, smooth middle. Jared places a hand over his.

Their breathing slows. Feathery kisses are exchanged. Their room smells like sex and vanilla. Relaxed and unwinding, Jensen breathes it all in, pressing a messy kiss to Jared’s shoulder. His mind is blurry; his heartbeat is trying to adjust.

“That was good,” Jared murmurs. He rolls over to face Jensen. “It feels good to be alone with you, Punzel.”

A lazy, slow kiss is shared.

Just as Jensen is about to give his response, he notices something. There is more light in their room than he initially remembers. Jared notices it soon after. Simultaneously, their minds click to a conclusion.

The door is open. Light from the hallway pours in.

Eyes wide, tears falling, and clutching Bun-Bun, Bailey screams with all the power of his four year old lungs.

“DADDY, YOU HURT MOMMY!”

 

Before either mommy or daddy can stumble out of bed, Bailey bolts.

He skids into his room and immediately tells his sisters what he’s seen daddy doing to mommy.

Life keeps moving.


End file.
